Alex Trager was nine when his mother died. Freak car accident. Another car's brakes had went out, and rammed her doing seventy miles an hour, throwing his mother's small Nissan off a bridge, into the Columbia river, a few miles from their home in Oregon.
His father, Felix Trager, had never been an entirely stable man. He drank too much, too often, and spent most of his nights passed out on any flat surface in the house. Never could hold down a job too long; the hang-overs usually got him fired within two or three months. But after Evangeline Trager's death, shit went downhill fast. While young Alex would never admit to his father abusing him, even he would say his father could be overly generous with the business end of a belt, or a backhand across the face.
When he was eleven, his father remarried, to Linda Kozik, a single mother from California. She was a small, fiery woman, who was given to smacking Alex, or her own son Herman around with whatever she had handy.
The two boys got along well enough; they were too busy trying to survive the bipolar Linda, and the alcoholic Felix to do much more than that. They hung out together on occasion, but neither one went out of their way to befriend the other.
By the time the two boys were in their freshman year, both had developed a serious drug addiction, although Alex –known as Tig to his friends –preferred cocaine, while Herman –who was called Manny –had a thing for heroin. Both boys were known for their quick fists, and sharp tongues.
Really, other than that, they didn't have a lot in common. Alex was dark skinned, with dark curly hair from his Native American mother, and Hispanic father, while Herman had a much lighter complexion. Manny preferred to hang out with a small group of close friends; Tig hung out with anyone and everyone. Manny frequently got busted for possession, and shop-lifting, while his step brother was most commonly picked up on small arson charges, or public disturbance.
Most people couldn't believe the two were related. They acted more like acquaintances than step-brothers. One of the few things they had in common:
Neither one ever invited friends home.
At fourteen, Tig was walking home, when he found a German Shepherd scrounging for food behind the small restaurant where he bussed tables after school. After some argument, Linda and Felix agreed to let the two boys keep the dog.
For the first time in three years, the boys finally found a reason to spend time together. The two were nearly inseparable, since both of them spent most of their free time with the dog, who they named Missy.
They had the dog for a two and a half years, before tragedy struck.
Seventeen year old Tig was pissed. His boss had stuck her nose where it wasn't, and called the cops halfway through his shift about the large bruise that covered the left side of his face. Courtesy of his mother's favorite frying pan. It was a good thing the stupid bitch hadn't seen his back; what his father had did had been a hell of a lot uglier.
He scoffed as he kicked at a can angrily. Didn't even hurt that much anymore. Most of the swelling had gone down, and his vision was slowly going back to normal. But the cops had asked a bunch of questions, tried to get him to talk, and when he refused, his boss had fired him. Said unless he was willing to help himself, she couldn't help him anymore.
And that, unfortunately, dried up most of his cash supply. Which meant more than just a temporary setback in his partying plans… It also meant that Manny would be the only one able to pay bills until Tig found another job. Felix was still unemployed, and on parole, so the chances of him finding a job were one in a million, and Linda wasn't about to get off her fat, lazy ass to get a job.
Which meant the boys were going to have to try and sit down, and decide what bills could be delayed, and which had to be paid… He was pretty sure they were already two months behind on the electric, and the rent was at least a month behind… They'd long since given up on trying to keep the phone bill paid. It'd been shut off at least five months ago.
At the very least, he'd get a hell of an ass whooping from Felix, even if the cops hadn't called them. At the worst, Linda would get involved, and…
Well, that didn't really bear thinking about.
He groaned as he walked up to the shitty trailer, and heard yelling. Perfect. Was just gonna be the icing on his already lovely day.
He briefly considered just walking away; going to hang out at somebody's house for a few hours, or even at the old railroad tracks. But halfway into the thought, he realized something was out of place.
He didn't hear Missy barking. Missy always started barking when his father or step-mother got to hollering. Instantly, he bolted into the house, and then froze.
His step-brother was laying on the ground, sobbing, and even from the door Tig could see the large belt mark crossing his chest, and what looked like a solid hit from the buckle across his face. But that wasn't anything unusual.
What stopped him dead in his tracks, and stopped his heart was the sight of Missy –his dog, his best friend –laying by the couch, half of her head missing.
When Felix saw his son standing in the door, he muttered under his breath, and dropped the belt, grabbing his beer off the TV stand, before shoving past Tig, and out the door. Tig couldn't even find it in him to move to stop the older man.
As soon as Felix was gone, Manny half stood and half crawled over to Missy, cradling what was left of her head in his lap, heart wrenching cries breaking his voice as he tried explaining. Tig managed to pick out a few words. Something about stealing, Felix, and Missy trying to protect Manny, and not being quick enough.
Tig could piece together the rest. There was a reason the two boys tried to keep Missy locked up when their father was in a belt-swinging mood. The dog would go psychotic trying to protect her boys. More than once, Felix had threatened to kill her if she ever went after him. Felix must have surprised Manny when he got home, and Missy had went after the old man. And Felix had been good to his word.
"The fuck did you do?" Tig asked numbly. "Why the fuck wasn't she in the bedroom?"
"I… I tried… I… The buckle… my head… and… I couldn't grab… I tried… Oh God, Missy, I'm sorry," The small blond sobbed. "I tried, Missy, I'm so sorry…"
Tig knew that he shouldn't be angry. He knew it wasn't Manny's fault. But he couldn't stop the anger welling up inside his chest.
Why the fuck hadn't he locked her outside before going to school? Or thrown himself on her, to try and stop her. Or if the stupid shit head hadn't gotten caught in the first place, none of it would have happened.
"You fuckin' killed her. You killed Missy," Tig said slowly. "You fuckin' bastard. You killed her. My only goddamned friend… and you killed her!" He roared, chucking the nearest thing in reach at his step-brother's head. He wasn't even sure what it was. He was already turning towards the door when he heard Manny's pained yelp.
He slammed the door shut behind him, ignoring Manny's desperate pleas for him to stay as he continued walking…
And he just kept walking.
He wasn't sure where he was going. But it was somewhere out of fucking Oregon...